


Tears are Forever

by Tuxedo_Elf



Category: Batman (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comic), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2415974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuxedo_Elf/pseuds/Tuxedo_Elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - The aftermath of Forever Evil if it had occurred in the old DCU. A series of drabbles and ficlets most focusing on the friends and family of Nightwing. *Double update* Parts nine and ten. Part nine - Starfire returns. Part ten - Batgirl and Black Bat reflect on their loss and their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scream

**Author's Note:**

> AU - The aftermath of Forever Evil if it had occurred in the old DCU. A series of drabbles and ficlets most focusing on the friends and family of Nightwing. 
> 
> This little series is mostly personal wish-fulfilment – I liked Forever Evil, but felt that the emotional impact would have hit much harder before the reboot, where Nightwing had a lot more friends and connections.

Scream

Black Canary knew that there were some sounds you never forgot. The first time she'd let out a canary cry was one of them. Then, it had seemed like the loudest, most devastating sound possible. She still recalled her own ears ringing in the aftermath. She had never imagined that the scream of another would burn into her memory so much that her own would seem to pale in comparison. 

Then the Crime Syndicate came and took Nightwing, plucking him from the sky before he could even react. They'd flaunted his capture, unmasked him, beaten him, before wiring him up to the murder machine. To the bomb that only his death could diffuse.

They'd tried to rescue him. Teams across the globe had worked tirelessly to get him. She had Huntress had been working with Oracle, who had remained remarkably calm under the circumstances. Oracle's commands had come across loud and clear through her communicator, directing them to where the syndicate were holding Nightwing. The remaining members of the Justice League were only slightly ahead of them. 

She'd been so close. Just a few more minutes and she'd have found a way to join them, maybe a way to stop the sequence of events with Oracle's help. She'd reassured her friend all the way, telling they'd find him, get him out – that it would be okay. 

Yet when the vidfeed had popped up on a nearby screen, she'd still been too far away. She hadn't been able to do anything but watch as Batman tried and failed to diffuse the bomb. Still, she'd held out hope, right until Luthor had attacked Batman, leaving the Dark Knight trying to regain his footing, powerless as Luthor apologised quietly before suffocating Nightwing. 

She still remembered the horrifying sound of the heart monitor flat-lining and the once-proud hero's head slumping forward lifelessly before the feed was cut and the screens went black.

That was when Oracle screamed. 

END


	2. Here for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here for You - Black Canary visits Oracle

I've rewritten this one three times and I'm still not sure about it, but I've run out of ideas! 

 

Tears are Forever 2 – Here for you

“Barbara...” Black Canary was actually breathless by the time she reached Oracle's home. The battle ended, she had gone to her friend as fast as she could. Oracle had been offline since Nightwing was lost, and that terrified her. Oracle was never offline, even when she slept there were various communications devices nearby. 

She knocked again but, getting no response, tried her security codes on the doorpad. Much to her relief, there was a reassuring 'beep' and the door slid open. “Barbara?” Canary stepped in cautiously, making her way through the hall into Oracle's lounge. There was no one there. “Babs?” She had to be here... her pace picked up as she searched the place. 

Finally she heard it, the slightest rubbing of wheels on a polished floor coming from the control room. Running in, she found Oracle – sitting. Just sitting, in her chair in the middle of the room. The screens were the only light, though the data on them went unseen. Her hands were clasped in her lap, something held tightly within them, though Dinah couldn't tell what. “Barbara?”

There was a stiffening in Oracle's shoulders. “What?” The voice carried less weight that she was used to.

“I... I came as soon as I could...”

“You didn't need to. I'm fine.” The lie was so obvious, so blatant, that it was almost physically painful. 

Dinah frowned. “Barbara... there's no shame in...”

“I said I'm fine... I'll make coffee.” She didn't even give her friend chance to finish, shifting whatever it was into a pocket and wheeling into the kitchen. 

With nothing to do but follow, Dinah did just that, standing awkwardly in the silence and watching as Barbara set about making coffee. Here, in the brightly lit room, the extent of how fine she wasn't became obvious. She was pale, her eyes red from lack of sleep and – she was quite sure – from crying. Other signs too, like the dirty cups in the sink – unusual for someone as meticulous as Oracle. 

Canary accepted the offered cup gracefully, though she didn't know what to say. What could she say? Things had always been complicated between Oracle and Nightwing, ever since they were Batgirl and Robin. Both of them had admitted that at one time or another. Although there had never been a lack of love, things had always seemed to come between them. And now they were out of chances. 

“Barbara, please talk to me.”

Barbara's hands tightened on the cup. “What is there to say? We live dangerous lives. We take risks. Sometime they get you killed,” she ground out.

“You're angry.”

The cup flew across the room and shattered, coffee running down the wall. 

“Of course I'm angry! The Justice League! The Titans! And... and YOU! No one saved him!” She shouted, her body shaking with rage. “All of you couldn't save one man!” 

“We tried... tried so hard...” Canary tried desperately to get through to her friend. 

“It wasn't good enough.”

Dinah's shoulders slumped. “No. It wasn't. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry.” Barbara's voice was cold, bitter. “Well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?” 

“Of course it doesn't but.. I am. I know what he meant to you. I'd give anything to make things right but... I don't have that power.” 

“You have no idea what he was to me.” Oracle's voice dripped ice. It was true. Some things – oh, so many things – had been just between them. She gripped the wheels of the chair until her knuckles turned white. “Just... just go Dinah. Get out, now.” 

“But..”

“Out!” 

Dinah winced at the venom in Barbara's voice and nodded. “Okay, I'll go. But... when you’re ready – I'm here for you.” Getting no response she sighed and left quietly. The door clicked closed behind her and she leaned against it, a soft sigh on her lips. 

She knew she should just go, go home, let Barbara call her when she was ready. No grudge would be held – her friend was grieving, she wasn't herself. Yet, she found herself edging around the high ledge of the apartment, peering in until she could finally see Oracle again. That her outside presence hadn't activated any alerts was yet another sign of how wrong things were. Still, it let her watch. 

Alone again, Barbara ignored the shards of the mug and the setting stain on the wall. Her defences down, she had no idea she was being watched as she reached into her pocket and pulled out what she'd hidden. 

As she ran it through her fingers, Black Canary finally saw it for the first time. A diamond ring on a gold chain. An engagement ring, given to Barbara by Dick nearly a year ago. She'd asked him to wait. 

Canary turned away as Oracle's head dropped and her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she clutched the ring in her hand, holding it against her chest as if it could heal her broken heart. 

“So sorry...”

END

 

Erm, it's not all going to be doom and gloom, honest!


	3. Things of Value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce discovers something he didn't know.

Things of Value

 

Notes - this one is a little more N52 but still something I wanted to explore. The timelines have to be blended for this series to work anyway! 

 

Things of Value

"Bruce?" Lucius Fox looked startled as the man walked slowly into his office. "What the hell are you doing here?" He had certainly not expected to see him anytime soon, not after what had just happened to Dick. Losing a loved one was bad enough, but like that - publicly and traumatically - Hell, it'd hit him hard and he wasn't even family, though he'd known Dick since the day Bruce took him in. Although it seemed, not as well as he'd thought.

"There's work to be done, Lucius," Bruce said tiredly, slumping into the chair behind his desk. After the past few days, playing the grieving father was surprisingly easy. He had come perilously close to being just that -again.

"Are you sure?" Lucius looked unconvinced. "You haven't, I mean... Dick he... Bruce, you haven't even buried him yet..." He shook his head. He wondered why Bruce seemed to go through so much, why he seemed to lose so many that he loved. No one deserved that. This was the second son he'd lost in only a few years. 

Not to mention the scrutiny that his adopted heir being a vigilante had brought upon the family and the business. Bruce had openly denied any knowledge of Dick's activities, pointing out his circus roots, but Lucius wasn't so sure. He'd long had his suspicions about his boss and not just because he funded the League. Now, however, was not the time to bring them up. 

"I... I prefer to keep busy..." Bruce ran his hand over his face. "The Justice League need funds to repair the watchtower and... There is the matter of Dick's estate... The circus they might... Need support and, well, I suppose the rest can be donated to charity... He'd like... Have liked... That..." 

Lucius frowned. "The rest?" 

"His money of course..." It was awkward, but it could be rectified later. He had to go through the motions, have it all legitimate. 

Lucius stared at Bruce. The man wasn't anywhere near as vapid as most thought, very little got past him. And yet... Oh God. He didn't know. 

"Bruce..." He hesitated before continuing, reluctant to deliver another blow."There *is* no money... I thought you knew that. Dick... He was just about avoiding bankruptcy." 

Very little shocked Bruce Wayne. He'd seen too much, done too much for that. But he'd never expected this. "No money? That can't be... Dick was careful with money and there was plenty of it... Millions by the time you'd worked your magic, Lucius..." 

"You're right, he was careful," Lucius nodded. "But he cared about people far more than money... though I suppose everyone knows that now. He couldn't get a loan for the rebuilding of Amusement Mile... To prove his commitment he offered to put every cent of his own money into it too. It worked and the bank stepped in, but when it burned down... He lost everything." 

"God..." Bruce was lost for words. "I didn't know... He never said... Why didn't he say something?"

"He valued his pride," Lucius replied softly. "Like you." 

He could believe that. He could count on one hand the times Dick had asked for anything - financially speaking that was - and even when he had, it had usually been to benefit others. 

He put his head in his hands, thinking. "See to it that the circus gets what it needs. Then... Get a team together. If it meant that much to him, then we'll see that Amusement Mile becomes everything he dreamed of." 

Lucius smiled. He really should have seen that coming. "It won't be cheap," he cautioned, though he knew it would fall on deaf ears. "And it'll be some time before it turns a profit." 

"I don't care. This... Is for Dick." As would the eventual profits be. A subtle way of replacing what he'd lost and hopefully one that Dick's pride could accept. 

"Of course. I'll get right on it." He looked sadly at the boss who'd always treated him so well. "You're a good man, Bruce. Not many could be so clear headed after such an awful tragedy." 

Bruce smiled sadly. The reply to that was easy and usually not even a lie. "I'm used to it."

***********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Amy Rohrbach reflects.
> 
> Updates may be sporadic for a time, I'm moving house next week! But most of the next chapter is already written.


	4. Rookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy Rohrbach reflects on the man she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my amazing friend Martha, who helped me out with this, even though it's not her fandom! (Yet... ;) )

Tears are Forever – Part Four - Rookie

 

Moving house had never been so easy. The two suitcases and half a dozen boxes were all that they'd had after losing everything they owned twice over. They'd barely rebuilt from their house being blown apart when the whole of Blüdhaven had been more or less wiped out. Amy closed her eyes, remembering that day. The world had literally come crumbling down, the blast tearing through the city like it was made of paper. She remembered the fear, of trying to hold it together for her family while she prepared to part from them to go and do her duty.

She remembered seeing Nightwing again, for the first time in months. Bruised, battered and carrying an unconscious teenager – a Mafia heiress, she'd discovered later. But alive and determined to help her and her family, something none of them had ever forgotten.

As if on cue there was a thump, followed by a yell of indignation, though that was almost drowned out by the outraged shriek. Amy sighed and went to see why her children were killing each other. Again. 

“Emma! Justin! What are you two doing? I do not want anything damaged, we've only just moved in!” God knows they were long overdue to have a true home again.

Her daughter, eight now, looked in outrage at her five year old brother. “It was him!” She glared at the rumpled boy, still holding on to the Superman t-shirt he was wearing. 

Amy raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

She let go at her mother's look and got to her feet, pointing at her brother. “He said... he said Superman was cooler than Nightwing!” 

“Of course he is! Superman isn't dead!” 

The comment, coming from the mouth of a child who didn't really understand the enormity of such things, hit like a knife. She was too stunned to stop Emma lunging at her brother, only recovering a moment later and forcibly parting the two. “Stop it – both of you. Emma... you can't just hit people because you don't like what they say.” She did feel sorry for her though. She'd been rather smitten with Nightwing after he saved them. Not that it excused such behaviour. “Go to your room and think about that.” The girl stomped off and she turned her attention to her youngest. Justin was only five and didn't really remember Nightwing the way Emma did. “Justin, that was not a nice thing to say about someone who helped you a lot. Actually, it's not a nice thing to say about anyone.”

The boy blinked at her. “But you can't be cool if you're dead!” 

“It's not about being cool, Justin. He was a very brave man and did a lot for us.” She couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite. The first time Dick had saved them, she'd responded by sacking him from the BPD. Even though it had seemed right then, time had given her a different perspective and with that had come regret, and guilt. “I need to remember that too. And you know what? He didn't have superpowers but he did all those things anyway. I think that's pretty cool.” 

Her son, hesitated, clearly digesting that information. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

She smiled, though it felt strained, her own emotions kept in check by sheer force of will. “Good. Now go and apologise to your sister.” 

He ran off and she felt the pang of regret again. It was hard to forget the months that followed Dick's dismissal, especially when learning that she'd been another pawn in Blockbuster's plan to destroy his life. By the time she offered him his job back it had been too little, too late. She'd never forgiven herself for that.

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself, peeling the tape off one of the boxes. How had she let herself get caught up in that mess? How could she not have realised? And then she hadn't done anything useful when he seemed to fall apart and simply vanished, leaving her fearing the worst. 

It spoke volumes that her over-riding memory of the day Blüdhaven fell was of seeing him alive. 

Reaching into the box, something snagged on her shirt and she pulled it. As if mocking her, a police shield – his shield – fell into her hand. She'd kept it long after there was any hope of them working together again. “You were a good cop, rookie...” She closed her eyes, feeling the edge of the badge cutting into her hand. She'd told him that once. He hadn't believed her.

She'd always hoped to see him again, but she never had. He'd been in the news from time to time, New York for a while, then Gotham, though often there was long gaps between appearances. And then sometimes he'd reappear only for her to wonder why he always seemed to get the raw end of the deal. The story of Amusement Mile had been horrific just to read about – what had it done to him? Then when he'd hit the news in Chicago, she'd hoped he'd found a new place to call home. 

He'd been caught in pictures, leaping and smiling.

Happy.

For a while. 

She'd been relieved, glad that he seemed to have found his place at last. For the first time in years, she'd stopped worrying quite so much. 

Then the world had found itself under attack once more. One day she'd turned on the news to see him in the public eye again in the worst possible way. 

Broken. Battered. Defeated. Unmasked.

She'd watched in growing horror as the events unfolded, unable to do anything but see it play out on the news. She'd held onto hope though, he had all those friends, powerful friends, willing to do anything to save him. 

How had they failed? 

She still had nightmares about watching him die. Maybe she always would. Moving away from the box, she rubbed a hand over her face. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't, of course, but this seemed particularly cruel.

She was too absorbed in thought to hear someone entering the room.

“Hon? You okay?” Jim stepped into the room to see his wife standing silently by the window. “Need help unpacking?”

She snorted, looking at him and trying to shake her dark mood. Even though it had been nearly three years since Blüdhaven, living with family meant they still had very little. “I think I can manage.”

He nodded, stepping closer. “Didn't think it was that. What's that you’ve got?” 

She opened her hand, revealed the shield. 

He didn't need to ask whose it was. He'd accepted the odd friendship she'd had with the vigilante. “He knew the risks, you know. Same as you do.”

“I know.” She smiled slightly. “I don't go jumping off rooftops though.”

“Well, risk is relative,” he chuckled softly. “Hon... I know you miss him. I mean... that's why we're here, right? Why we came to Chicago, when you could have applied for any police department in the country.”

She couldn't meet his eyes as she nodded. “I should have told you. I'm sorry.”

He pulled her close, kissing her softly. “You didn't have to. I'm your husband, I see these things. And I understand, even though I was really hoping for Hawaii.”

Amy chuckled, leaning into him and feeling the mood lighten with his embrace. “You are the best husband. I love you, you know that? You've done so much for me – put up with more than any husband should. But... he did so much for us. We wouldn't be alive today if not for him. We lost Blüdhaven, but Chicago is still here - and he's not.” She pressed into Jim's arms, letting him drown out the world. She was lucky, luckier than Nightwing had been. Which was why, being here... “It was the least I could do.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	5. Ashes to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred mourns all those he's lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeezing in one more update before my life goes crazy for a week or two!

Tears are Forever – Part 5

Ashes to Ashes

xxxxx

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Dust on the pictures above the fireplace.

Dust in the rooms that would never be used again. 

Dust on the latest in the line of trophy cases in the cave. 

He cleaned them of course, that was what he did. Cleaned and tried to stop the dust from touching them. Dust meant something was sitting, stagnant, unmoving. Dead. 

He had to keep things moving. Alive. Just as he'd been doing for decades. It grew harder each time though. With each new memorial, each funeral, the dust seemed to settle in his heart a little more. The duster clutched in his ageing hands, Alfred wondered at his own life. Lucky, some would say, to have lived so long. But a life witnessing so much death – it wasn't lucky. It was slow torture. 

Standing back, he looked at the line of cases, each uniform a tribute to a fallen son. Jason's first. He'd come back, but so changed, the boy, the young hero was still dead. He barely recognised the angry man who used that name these days. 

Then Damian's. That was still an open wound. Perhaps it always would be. He knew, deep down, that only one to blame for his death was the monster who put the sword through him, however he would forever blame himself for letting him out that night. Dick had blamed himself too. For not being fast enough, for getting knocked out and not protecting him. 

Dick. Usually sure steps faltered as he approached the last, newest case. Usually steady hands shook as he wiped the cloth over the glass. He still remembered the day Bruce brought the grieving and traumatised acrobat home. He'd feared for the boy then, remembering how Bruce had been after the death of his parents. 

But Dick was different. Though aching at his loss, it wasn't long before his natural resilience and sunny nature broke through the grief. He had filled their world with life and colour that had never been seen before or since. Always so ready with a smile and a joke, even Bruce's many grim moods had been broken by the optimistic, happy boy.

Years had changed him of course, the life he'd chosen making its mark. But he was always optimistic, hopeful, even in the grimmest of situations. Most likely – until the end. 

Alfred's practised, stoic demeanour faltered as he looked at the uniform. Why clean the case? No matter what he did, the dust would return. Even though he tried to keep things moving, alive – it was, in the end, a futile task.

“No more.” The duster dropped from his hand as his voice echoed against the high walls of the cave. There would be no more Robins. The name was a curse. Even those who survived it suffered too much for it to be justified. No matter who Bruce found, how he argued it, he wouldn't allow it. These were children, children he'd raised, been a father or grandfather to. He couldn't go through losing any more. 

Turning, Alfred walked slowly to the stairs, leaving the cave behind him, the duster forgotten by Nightwing's uniform. 

As he left, the secret door closing behind him, the draft threw up the dust on the ground. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	6. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jason talk.

Tears are Forever – 6 – Numb

xxxxxxxxxx

Gotham winters weren't just cold. They were bitter, with the kind of winds that cut through you like a knife. The kind of cold that seemed to reach into you and chill you to the bone. 

Tim Drake hated the cold. He'd complained about it many times as he stood where he was now, atop Wayne Tower. 

Usually he'd insulate his suit, move fast to keep warm and not stop until he was ready to go home.

Right now though, he wanted to feel cold. Wanted to feel _anything_. But there was only numbness. The funeral was fast approaching and he still hadn't reacted, hadn't felt. It was too surreal, too impossible to accept. 

Maybe he'd just lost too much, maybe his mind had simply refused to take any more, had shut off to prevent complete and utter breakdown. Maybe. 

It wouldn't be surprising. The list of people he'd had to bury of late was longer than it had a right to be. And it was still growing. Nightwing. How the hell had they lost _Nightwing_? Logically, he knew that any of them could die at any time. Still... Dick had always been so constant. So there. Him being gone was simply – wrong.

There was a thud behind him and the sound of boots crunching over gravel towards him. “Hood.” He didn't bother to turn around.

“Red Hood to you,” the other man replied. “What are you doing up here? There's nothing happening.”

That was true. The city had been eerily quiet since the attack. Even the criminals were still shaken. 

Red Robin shrugged. “Just thinking.” He knew Jason was looking at him, but, for once, the other man was quiet. He had a question though, one that he couldn't hold back. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“What's it like? You know...” 

“I knew that was coming,” Jason said, unable to hide the slight bitterness before sighing in resignation. He took off the hood and tucked it under his arm. “Dying? Dying hurt like a bitch. 'Course I got blown up, so I dunno if it's always like that.” He'd wondered about that after seeing Dick's death broadcast to the world. What had he felt in those final moments? Had they been anything like his? He hoped not. They'd never really got on but, well, he didn't deserve that.

He looked at Tim from the corner of his eye, wondering at the lack of response before continuing. “Being dead though? To be honest, I don't remember much. If you're asking about an afterlife... you're not the first. You won't be the last. But I don't know. I don't remember. There's nothing. No pain. No feelings about it. Nothing at all. Sorry, kid.”

“Thanks anyway.” Tim sighed and turned his gaze back to the skyline, unsettled by what he'd just heard. Jason hadn't just described death. He'd described him, how he felt inside. Numb. Dead. And the worst of it was, he had no idea how to start living again. How did you, when everyone you loved kept dying around you? 

He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

 

End


	7. Always a Titan

Tears are Forever – 7 

In order to include the Wally from the old DCU, I've had to ignore the return of Barry completely and replace his role in Forever Evil with Wally. This is admittedly problematic, but at least for this arc, I don't think there are any drastic changes. It's a pretty hard thing to reconcile! 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There are those who fail, there are those who fall,  
There are those who will never win,  
Then there are those who fight for the things they believe,  
And these are men like you and me 

(From The Snows of New York by Chris de Burgh)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The statue stood as it always had, tall and imposing, despite the taller tower behind it. It wasn't the height that made it so striking, but the remarkable, larger-than-life likenesses of the original Titans as they had been when the team was first created. Happy, young and alive. A perfect moment, captured for eternity.

A red blur sped up to it, stopping abruptly nearby. He'd been there when the statue had first been gifted to them, remembered the ego rush just looking at it had brought. How things had changed. It was never supposed to be a memorial, but that's what it had become. 

He wasn't surprised when his eyes were drawn almost immediately to the stone face of Robin. Dick had been so young, the youngest of them all, yet he'd led without hesitation or fear. He had been their glue, the one thing that held them together, no matter what they faced. 

Dick had grown, changed his identity, even moved away. Yet what he'd started had endured. There had almost always been a team of Titans ready to defend the people. 

And the people remembered.

There was no reaching the statue currently. Between where he stood and the statue itself, was a sea of flowers, cards and other heartfelt tributes. It didn't matter that he'd not been part of the team when he died. For all that he'd done, they paid their respects in the place he had so long been associated with. Each tribute was a life saved, a disaster averted. And there were hundreds, he didn't even want to count them.

“How?” He murmured. “How did you do it, Dick?” How had he touched so many in his too-short life?

“It's amazing isn't it?” The soft, sad, voice behind him made him jump. 

“Donna...”

She smiled sadly as she landed, her eyes never straying from the carpet of tributes, not daring to look at Wally or the statue. “No powers. Too few years. But so much achieved.” She blinked, fresh tears building in already reddened eyes. “He was always the best of us.”

Wally nodded, his throat too tight to dare attempt words, and pulled her into a hug, burying his face into her hair for several long minutes, until he felt that he could breathe again. 

“I... have you heard from Roy yet?” 

She shook her head. “No... I'm worried about him. And... Alfred called.” She hesitated, leaning into Wally for support. “The funeral is next week.”

Wally closed his eyes. It was too soon. A funeral was too real, too final. He didn't blame Roy for not wanting to face it yet.

“Donna... this can't be happening.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “We've survived so much and you... you came back...” he said it brokenly, clinging to childish hope in a world that had so often done the impossible. 

She rested her head on his red-clad shoulder, feeling the shadows cast from the nearby statue falling over them. His shadow. “That was different.” 

And it was. Dick had been mortal, no matter how it had never seemed like it. He had no powers and his luck had run out. “What do we do now?” He hadn't felt so lost since Barry died. 

Donna wiped her eyes and reluctantly let him go. She looked at the statue surrounded by flowers, by the love of the people he had saved. Flying low, she read some of the cards, stopping to pick up a teddy in a Nightwing costume, a gift from a child pulled from the wreckage of Gotham after the quake. A child who had grown, lived, because of Nightwing.

Flying back, she pushed the bear into Wally's hands. “We remember. We live. And we make him proud.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	8. Broken Promises

This part covers the events of Nightwing 27-29 and Dick's relationship with the orphaned girl, Jen.

 

Tears are Forever – Broken Promises

xxxxxxx

She'd known his secret before the rest of the world, had stumbled upon it quite by chance. It had excited her and, for a brief time, she'd had the thrill of a secret all her own. There had never been any desire to tell, not even him. 

Then Zsasz murdered her parents and everything changed. And then she **had** told him, had begged him to help her find their killer. She'd been so sure he'd help her. When he hadn't, when he'd tried to protect her instead, she'd been so angry. She'd stolen his weapons, gone out on her own to face a monster. If he hadn't come after her, she'd have died that night.

But of course he had come after her. Because he was a hero, and that what heroes did. He'd come and he'd saved her. The last time she'd seen him, he'd promised it wasn't goodbye. That made her angry sometimes – he'd **promised**. She'd already lost her parents and he'd promised to be there for her. And he'd gone and died, just like them. 

It wasn't fair, she thought bitterly, wiping hot tears from her eyes. She'd found someone who understood her, who knew what she was going through and he'd been taken too. 

Sometimes, in her darkest nights, she blamed herself. Her parents deaths – she knew she'd had no control over that. Yet if she hadn't gone after Zsasz, Nightwing wouldn't have had to save her. Then maybe the police would have caught him, then **they'd** have shipped him back to Arkham and maybe Nightwing wouldn't have been there at exactly the wrong time. It was a game of 'what if' that she could never quite banish from her mind. 

Sniffling, Jen toyed with the bracelet on her wrist. Dick's mother's bracelet. It was strange, she had her own mother's things, yet this gave her more comfort. Maybe because it had been a gift before a death, rather than an inheritance after one. She missed all of them though. Her parents, who had been so busy, but open and free with their love. Dick, whose hand of friendship had been so readily offered, despite his secrets. 

She missed Chicago itself too. It was too quiet here in the suburbs, too lonely. The only excitement had come when the media had discovered her connection to Nightwing and crowded the house. Her aunt had, when she pleaded, let her talk briefly before shooing the reporters away and the peace had returned.

Looking out her window, she saw trees and clear skies, not the roar and bustle of a busy city. She didn't belong here. 

The city called to her. The city she had lived in and loved. The city he had protected. It scared her to think of going back, but she would. She was brave, she had faced down Zsasz while young and unskilled. When she went back, she would be neither. 

Jumping up, she pulled a box from under her bed. Inside, two well-used escrima sticks lay wrapped in black cloth. She picked one up, her thumb rubbing the symbol engraved there before she wrapped her whole hand firmly around the stick. She had a long way to go before she would be worthy of taking his place as the protector of Chicago. Still, the day **would** come. She would grow, and learn and train. Until she was ready and then, she would fly. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I always had a feeling this was what Jen was meant for!

This was supposed to be Kory's chapter, but I'm having a little trouble with it, so I skipped ahead and will go back to her! I do have a list I'm working from and fairly solid ending plan, but if there is anyone I haven't done and you want to see, let me know, I'll get them in if I can! You can comment/message here, or I'm on tumblr too. :) http://tuxedoelf.tumblr.com/


	9. Starcrossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starfire returns to Earth.

**Anyone still reading this? I am so sorry for the long, long delay! It wasn't the plan! Kind of annoyed with myself, because I'd intended to have it finished before Dick's return to life. :/ Oh well, might as well carry on! This is a double update in a vain attempt to say 'sorry.'**

**Anyone waiting for a Rising Star update, that's next on the list. I'm revamping the plot to make it work better. Err, before Christmas I hope?**

**Speaking of Hope, I do have a completely written Lantern fic coming soon, fans of Saint Walker may like it. :)**

 

Starcrossed

She would always love him.

That much she knew and had known for years. No matter that they never married, that their relationship fell apart. No matter that he'd told her he no longer loved her in that way.

Even now, when any remaining possibility of _maybe_ had been torn away by his death. Still she loved him. 

She'd been so far away when it happened. Deep in space, unaware of the attack on earth until it was over. Even now, she had yet to reach the Sol system. But the news had travelled, these things always did. She knew he was gone. 

Part of her wasn't surprised. Even when they'd been together, she'd known that the possibility of growing old together was slim at best. That someone so self-sacrificing was bound to be called upon to make the final sacrifice one day.

And yet – the rage she had felt on hearing that, the bone-deep loss had terrified even the most loyal of her current companions. But that was who she was, had always been. Dick had seen that fire, the temper and the passion and loved all of it. Wanted all of it. 

Even though it had ended, even though his feelings had changed, hers hadn't. She was Tamaranian and her people loved deeply. She knew - hoped - that she might one day meet another, someone who could love her forever, in the way he could not. But even if she did, she would love Dick no less. The heart was limitless, she had always understood that and love between two people was no less for also loving another. 

That was why she was coming back, to be close to him one last time. To tell him that she loved him, even if he couldn't hear her. And to tell him that even though they had parted, even though she had been hurt so much by their breaking and now this... That she wouldn't have chosen another way. 

Her tears burned hot in the cool vacuum of space as she made her way to the outer reaches of the Sol system. No matter how angry she'd been, she had always come back here. To his planet, even if not to him. Just to be near him had been enough, even if she'd stayed away out of respect for his current relationship. This time though, she would see him. This time, she didn't want to. Didn't want to see him cold and pale and lifeless. Without the spark that had made him uniquely him. Yet she would. Out of love, out of respect and out of fear of forgetting his face. She would see him laid to rest. 

She screamed in rage and loss as she sped past the planets and moons, her fire burning hotter than any of them. It was over, truly and completely. No more chances, no going back. And still she knew.

She would always love him. 

xxxxxxx


	10. Keep on Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batgirl and Black Bat reflect on their loss and why they do what they do.

Keep on Going

xxxxxxxxx

“It doesn't seem real.” Batgirl rested her arms on the head of the gargoyle and breathed in the air that seemed so much cleaner up here. “I mean, it was all crazy but I never... I guess I always thought Batman would get to him in time.” Staring out over the dark night, she noticed that the Bat Signal had not been lit since the end of the crisis. 

Black Bat perched next to her, at ease despite the small space and long drop. “It is not the first time he has failed to reach someone in time,” she reminded Steph. 

“You don't have to tell me, Cass.” She twisted a batarang around in her hand, letting the point dig in to the thick material of her gloves. 

Black Bat shifted her position, balancing on the gargoyle head in front of Steph, one leg dangling casually over the side. “I was talking of Jason. You... were not truly dead.” 

“Ouch,” Steph grumbled, not turning around. “It's a point I suppose. But everyone thought I was. So... same effect, right?” 

Cass made a brief noise of agreement and offered no further comment. She had missed Stephanie terribly during that long year but, like so many other things, it was impossibly awkward to talk about. It was almost as awkward as talking about Damian, which they never did now. It never ended well for Steph.

"Yeah, I know, taboo subject." Steph sighed. When the silence became too much. "I just... We didn't always see eye to eye, you know? But... He was a pretty great guy. And... He deserved better." She shuddered thinking on what he must have gone through at the hands of his tormentors. 

"Don't we all... Deserve better?" Cass asked, frowning. "We could all die like that any day."

"I guess so." Steph put the batarang away. She'd almost died like that already. "Can't be helped I suppose. Well, we could quit. Give up and just live a normal life. But that's not going to happen."

"Do you never wonder why we... Keep fighting?" Cass said, looking intently at her friend. "I was... Raised to fight. Now my life is different. I could stop. But I do not. You could stop, you do not. Why?" 

"Good question." Steph smiled slightly. "I think people like us, we see the bigger picture. When I started, I was doing this for me. To make my life better. To make my dad's life worse. I did it too but on the way, I changed. I grew.” She chewed on her lip, remembering. “And it's been hard and I've learned some painful lessons. In the end though? I look at the good I've done, the lives I've changed and that keeps me going. We hurt so others don't have to. We die so others live. Dick knew that. You know it and I know it. This job will probably kill us. Maybe even more than once. But... I think it's worth it."

Cassandra nodded slowly, Steph's words making sense. Some people were just drawn to give their lives over to the service of others. People like them saw no other options, despite the often harsh consequences. Dick's sacrifice hadn't been the first and wouldn't be the last. However hard it was without him, there was no giving up. "We keep on going then?" She asked. 

"Yeah." She blinked as a bright light suddenly flooded the sky causing them both to look up. It was the Bat Signal, but tonight, Nightwing's symbol filled the night sky instead. Steph looked at it, taking in what it meant, what it stood for. What it would always stand for. "Yeah, we keep on going." 

Xxxxxx


End file.
